Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(64)

No sign of her daughter below, or above, either.

Again reliving the nightmare of Jeremy’s disappearance, Elsa runs blindly back along the corridor.

She tries to reassure herself exactly as she did on that awful day fifteen years ago—that her child is simply hiding, or lost; that nothing bad can happen to someone who’s already endured so much pain in a short lifetime.

But it did, and Jeremy is dead, and now Renny…

“Renny!” she calls recklessly, no longer in control of her instincts.

She races around the corner, retracing the path to her mother’s apartment. The door is still ajar.

Did Renny go back inside?

Was someone waiting for her there?

Would she have left the door standing open exactly as Elsa had?

Without a thought to her own safety, Elsa dashes inside, dizzy with fear, calling her daughter’s name.

It takes her a minute of frantic searching, maybe less, to determine that the apartment is empty—just as the house and the yard were fifteen years ago.

Back in the round entryway, she grasps the edge of an antique table as the world seems to spin around her like a carnival ride.

“Renny! Oh God, Renny, where are you?”

She’s gone.

Gone.

At last, the bottom drops out and Elsa falls to her knees.





CHAPTER TEN




Driving down the Saw Mill River Parkway, Marin can’t stop thinking about Lauren’s daughter, Lucy. A pretty, wholesome-looking brunette, she’s really got her act together.

Not that Caroline doesn’t, in her own way…

Yet Marin can’t help comparing the two—especially when she remembers Lucy’s polite response when Lauren introduced her; the way she managed to put Marin herself at ease. Whether or not her warmth was genuine—though Marin sensed that it was—Lucy sure sailed through the potentially awkward moment with grace.

No way would Caroline display that level of maturity under those particular circumstances. No, she’s always put her own needs first, just as Garvey did.

It’s easy to blame him for Caroline’s character flaws—after all, he spoiled her rotten.

But I’m her mother. Aren’t I partly responsible, too?

Marin’s always told herself that she could love Annie enough to make up for the way Garvey treated her—but what about Caroline? Did she love Caroline enough?

Or did she resent her for being the center of Garvey’s world—or for being so sick that—

No. Absolutely not. I’m her mother. Of course I love her enough.

Yes, Caroline possesses some of her father’s more disagreeable personality traits: she’s self-centered, sarcastic, and can be mean-spirited. But, like him, she’s also charming, and quick-witted, and brilliant.

She’ll probably turn out to be just fine, Marin assures herself.

So what? Everyone has faults. Why, all of a sudden, are you dwelling on Caroline’s?

She knows exactly why. That thing yesterday, with the rat—it’s been in the back of Marin’s mind all day. What if…?

No. She would never, ever do that.

And yet…Caroline thrives on attention. She always got plenty of it from Garvey. With him gone, she’s taken the histrionics to a whole new level. The way she pitched a tantrum the other day over family photos, accusing Marin of burning them…

I couldn’t even listen to her. I turned around and walked away from her in mid-tirade.

And yesterday, when the girls were fighting—Marin chose to ignore that, as well. Numb. That’s it—she’s been numb for so long, ignoring, denying, overlooking, overmedicating…

How far would Caroline go for her attention?

Did she make up the bizarre story about the rat?

Did she send the text message herself, so that Marin wouldn’t doubt her?

She sighs, staring bleakly through the windshield as the wipers sweep the rain from side to side.

Maybe I should have called her on it last night.

But I will. I’ll talk to her as soon as I get home.



Crumpled on the herringbone floor in her mother’s foyer, head buried in her arms, Elsa tells herself that as bad as it seems, she can’t give in to tears now. That won’t do Renny any good.

“Mommy?”

Hearing her daughter’s voice, Elsa lurches upright, praying it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her.

No—it’s Renny!

She’s standing in the doorway of the apartment.

About to cry out in relief, Elsa realizes that someone is standing behind the little girl.

It’s Tom the doorman, his hand firmly planted on her shoulder.



Lauren’s knock on Lucy’s bedroom door is greeted by a gruff “Ryan, I told you, I don’t know where it is, so stop bugging me!”

“It’s not Ryan.” Lauren pushes the door open a crack. “What did he lose this time? His phone? His wallet? His iPod—again?”

Lucy, sitting at her desk in front of an open notebook, shakes her head. “I told him I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Either your sibling loyalty has done a major about-face, or you’re blackmailing him to keep quiet.”

Seeing the look on Lucy’s face, she wonders why—then realizes the blunder. Blackmail? You idiot.